Microcassette Musings
by X-File Writer
Summary: What is a bored man going to say when he's left alone with a tape recorder? Listen, along with many other people, to the musings of Joshua Lyman. (Josh/Donna)
1. Default Chapter

Microcassette Musings

Microcassette Musings

By: The Writer

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Rating: PG_Category_: Dealing with Josh/Donna

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Disclaimer: The West Wing characters belong to NBC/ Aaron Sorkin. I mean no infringement. Please restrain yourself from suing me.

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Author's Notes: Greetings! I know my screen name shows me to be a fan of the X-files, but I also enjoy the WW. This is my first fan fiction using the show…so I hope it satisfactorily portrays their idiosyncrasies.

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Spoilers: I'm not quite certain. Um, I guess everything through 'Two Cathedrals'. Basically, I have interpreted the subtleties of the finale's "cliffhanger" to produce this post-episode fiction. (Though this whole story does **NOT** revolve around those thoughts…)

Part 1

There was a quiet click as the tiny record button was pressed on. Josh Lyman held the electret condenser microphone an appropriate distance from his mouth and began talking. His voice carried through his small office, but was not loud enough for his assistant to hear. 

"Testing…testing one, two, three… Testing… Well, this thing better be working. God knows we have! Ever since Bartlet announced he was planning to run for reelection we haven't had a moment's peace. The funny thing is, there's so much to be done…nobody knows where to start.

"But I, for one, know that there are ten things waiting for me to work on from a week ago—not to mention the piles from the past two days. But what have I been told is first priority on my list? No, not big tobacco or the reelection, not anything that important. I, Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, was instructed, in this chaotic time only comparable to an apocalypse, to do a radio interview.

"That's right…an interview. Actually, a radio show. I was supposed to go talk on _Fresh Air_…some show on NPR. *But I put up so much of a fight that, instead they gave me this mini-recorder and ten pages of typed questions which I'm supposed to answer. This list could take hours to respond to, longer than 78 year old Senator Stackhouse's filibuster. 

"That's not even mentioning the questions they're asking. Oh, no, nothing about 'The Bartlet Scandal'. No, I'll have plenty of time to answer _those_ questions at the trial. No, these people want to know how I feel almost one year after being shot. What am I supposed to say, that I'm happier to be alive than Donna is when she's listening to a CD of David Hasselhoff? Do these people _seriously_ believe the national public cares?

"Though, thinking about that day does bring up some other issues. One _is_ my assistant, Donna Moss. From what I heard, she was a total wreck after hearing what had happened to me. But what does that mean? That she cares about me in that big-brotherly way? Or is there something else? I mean, she _did_ try to set me up with Joey Lucas. Could someone _like_ you, but still try to set you up with somebody else? That just doesn't seem right.

"Though, she was correct, I was smitten. Joey is attractive and all, but…

"What am I saying? That I'm _enamored _by Donna, a young woman eleven years my junior? Not to mention the fact that she works for me… I'm sure there is a lawsuit in there somewhere. But, wasn't Juliet only fourteen in _Romeo and Juliet_? I mean, Shakespeare… Ugh! What am I talking about? Donna is not a child and I'm _certainly_ not Romeo! I—

Josh quickly stopped speaking when he heard a quiet knocking at his office door. He set the recorder down and yelled, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Josh," Donna said, poking her head into the room. "I just brought you some files on- Oh! Were you doing that NPR thing?" She frowned. "I didn't mean to interrupt… I just—

As Donna backed out of the doorway, Josh stood up to reassure her. "No, that's fine. What did you want?"

Donna brushed her blond hair behind her ear. "Oh, these can wait. Remember, C.J. is going to want that tape by two."

Josh pushed his sleeve up and checked at his watch. "Okay, thanks, Donna. You know, I think they should market these things as a type of self-therapy device."

"So, you like talking to yourself? I think there are places where you can do that all the time…they're called Mental Hospitals. They have nice padded rooms and— 

"That's not funny. Get out, Donna, out!"

With a broad smile she continued, "I'm sure you would love it there—

Josh pushed his assistant out of his office and shut the door after her. He sat back down in his chair and leaned back. After a moment the quiet knocks are heard, again, and Donna opened the door. "You know I didn't mean that, Josh…"

He smiled and replied, "Yeah, I know."

"Do you want anything?"

"Lunch."

"A turkey sandwich?"

"On white."

"No Mayo."

"Thanks, Donna."

Watching her leave, Josh stretched his arms over his head. Unfortunately, he leaned back too far and his chair toppled over with a loud crash. This caused his assistant to dash back into the room. Her blue eyes welled with concern. "What happened, Josh? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled while awkwardly trying to dislodge himself from beneath the chair. 

Donna leaned over the desk and peered down at her boss. Her arms were folded as she teased him; "Do you need help?"

"No…" He shifted under the weight of the chair and gazed at his assistant with a puppy-dog look on his face. 

"Honestly, the things I do," Donna mumbled, shaking her head in mock-dismay as she walked around her boss' desk.

"Yes, Donna, everyday I thank God you're here."

She opened her mouth, flattered, then looked closely into his eyes. "You're lying, aren't you?"

"I plead the fifth."

"That's not funny, Joshua. Now you're just going to have to stay under there." Donna turned around and headed out of the room.

"Donna?"

The door slammed.

"Donnatella Moss, come back in here right now!" Josh yelled at the door. He grumbled, hearing his tie begin to rip as he shifted positions. 

The wall muffled the reply, "Are you going to apologize?" 

"Donnaaaa…" he whined.

"Joshuaaaa…" she mimicked.

"Fine. I'm sorry. Okay?" said Josh, not sounding very sincere. "Now will you untangle me? My necktie's stuck on one of the screws in the bottom of this chair."

"So, you're stuck, huh?" asked Donna with an evil glint in her eye. She stood in the doorway. A large pair of scissors, more comparable to shears, was in her hand. "I bet you wish that chair was really—

"Donna."

"Not a chair, but Joey—

"Donna, stop," he commanded in a serious tone. Josh's assistant usually didn't listen, but this time she did. "You can stop that whole love-muse-Aphrodite-matchmaker thing you've been trying to pull on me."

Donna's face fell and she seemed truly disappointed. "But, Josh, you and Joey would be so…" She paused, seeing the look he was giving her. "Fine. Be that way, Mister I'm-the-perpetual-bachelor." She raised her hands in surrender and looked to the ceiling for guidance. "Why, oh why God, why?"

Josh interrupted her dramatic moment by coughing loudly.

"What?"

Donna's boss used a hand motion to tell her to turn around. The Press Secretary was standing behind her. Without looking, the assistant cringed and asked, "Someone important is behind me, huh?" 

C.J. smiled. "I was fine standing here, watching the performance." Walking past Donna she stood in front of Josh. She put her hands on her hips. "What did you do now, Josh, that upset your assistant? She's had to be your knight—or duchess, or whatever the hell you call a female of the same rank—quite a lot and you've gone and tarnished her shining armor, once again."

Ansley walked by the office and yelled, "Women never really have the same rank as men!"

C.J. raised an eyebrow and turned back to Josh. "Anyway, I need that NPR tape, Josh."

"Sorry, C.J., I've been a little busy—

"I can see that."

"I'll have Donna bring it over to you later."

C.J. looked over at Josh's assistant, who was still standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, seeming quite perturbed. "If you say so. But I need it soon, Josh. If I don't have that tape in my hand by two o'clock I'm going to have the Secret Service hall your ass over to the NPR studios to do a live session." With that she turned around and left the office.

"Well, Josh," said Donna, snipping at the air with the scissors as she walked in, "I hope I don't miss. You know, one fourth of all major accidents happen in the workplace."

"And 99.9% of all those accidents in the workplace are caused by assistants."

"Watch it," she threatened, slamming the scissors into the desk. 

Donna kneeled down behind Josh and grabbed his shoulders, ready to use herself as a lever against his back. "Okay. On the count of three I'm going to push you into a sitting position while you stand up the chair."

"But, Donna, I'm still stuck to the chair. When it stands up my neck is going to be yanked forward."

"Don't worry, Josh, you'll be fine."

"Donna," he whined—again.

"Josh, work with me. Do you need help or not?"

"Fine."

"On the count of three. One…two…three." 

Donna pushed against Josh and jarred him into a sitting position. He pushed the chair off of his chest, to get it to stand. Unfortunately, he pushed a little too hard and the chair tipped forward, falling against his desk. This caused Josh to be pulled, by the neck, forwards another foot. 

Donna—who had been leaning against Josh—suddenly, found herself leaning against air and she fell backward, onto her back. In the process of falling she instinctually reached out for support and grabbed Josh's shoulder. He ended up, once again, on the floor…this time sandwiched between Donna and the heavy chair. 

Just as the dust was settling Sam walked in. He looked over the desk and smiled. "I've heard of 'behind every great man there's a great woman'—but _underneath_ every great man?"

Donna blushed and pulled herself from under Josh. She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. In one swift movement she snatched the scissors from the desk and used them to cut her boss' tie off just below the knot. She held the weapon like a sword and threatened Sam; "Do you have anymore comments?"

Sam held his hands up in the air and backed out of the room. "No, no, no. I can see when I'm not wanted."

Josh pushed the chair to the side and stood up. He pulled the remains of his tie out of his collar. "Uh, thanks, Donna."

"Sure, Josh. And Curtis can fix your chair if it needs it," she replied, turning to go back to her desk. Then she stopped and spun around. "By the way, did you know there's a day in Germany* when the women are given the keys to the city and they go around cutting guy's ties off?"

Her boss ran his fingers through his hair. "Um…no, I didn't." He picked his chair up and carefully sat down in it. "Donna, what time is it?"

"Time to get a new watch." He glared at her. "Fine. It's a half-hour until your next meeting."

"_Great_," Josh said sarcastically. "I'll leave the NPR tape on my desk, can you deliver it to C.J.?"

"Sure," replied Donna, returning to her desk.

A few minutes later both Josh and his assistant were working busily at their computers. Donna's voice was the first to break the silence; "Hey, Josh, I just looked up that holiday on the Internet—it's called…"

"Uh, huh." Her boss really wasn't listening; his attention was focused mainly on his computer's monitor. He, like Donna, was looking for German websites. Except the Deputy Chief of Staff couldn't find anything about the holiday she spoke of. Was the cutting off of men's ties a symbol of affection or women's rights?

Did he even _want_ it to be a symbol of affection?

Josh looked from the tape recorder to the monitor. Donna couldn't possibly have known anything…could she? It's not like he announced his feelings over loudspeakers. Of course, neither did she. _She_ probably didn't even remember the specifics of the tradition when she spoke of it…right? So, the 'cutting off of ties' comment didn't mean anything? Or did it?

Josh shook his head. He was tempted to pick up the keyboard and hit it against his head. Instead, he sighed, logged off of the computer, and picked up the ten pages of NPR questions. He might as well get it over with…

** TO BE CONTINUED…PLEASE RESPOND!**

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To any German readers: I'm sorry that was such a poor description of your holiday! Please forgive me for my naivetes!


	2. A Voice on the Radio

Part 2- A Voice on the Radio __

Be ready to enjoy a bit of fluff and seeing poor Josh thrown in a hilarious situation. **(About that German holiday—I searched for a LONG time and couldn't find the name…sorry!)**

Part 2

A Voice on the Radio

Josh sauntered into the bullpen after grabbing a cup of coffee from the Mess—he had to go get a drink after eating that dry sandwich. He was busy recalling his earlier banter with Donna:

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Josh had sprayed breadcrumbs all over his desk as he yelled, "Donna, did you happen to get me a drink?"

"You didn't ask for one," his assistant had replied, barely pausing as she typed at her computer.

"Well, would you get one now?"

"Josh, I'm busy."

"So am I."

"You didn't finish that NPR tape, did you?" she had accused.

Josh's reply had been indignant, "As a matter of fact I did."

"Really? Then you could take it over to C.J. so I won't have to."

The Deputy Chief of Staff had run a hand over his face and muttered, "Who's the assistant to whom?"

"I heard that, Josh." Donna had picked up a file from her desk, slid it into a pile of papers, and carried them into his office. "Why don't you go get your own drink like a big boy and I'll run the tape to C.J.?"

"Donna," he had whined, "couldn't you just stop by the Mess? I have other things I have to do. Do I look like an octopus or something? Do I have six…seven arms?"

She had set the stack of papers down with a thud. "It's eight arms, Josh. You did_ go to college, right?"_

"I knew it was eight…I was just…" his voice had trailed off.

"Sure, Josh, whatever. You look more like a teddy bear, anyway. The way your hair kind of curls and—

Donna had suddenly stopped talking. She realized, while trying to make her point, she had reached over her boss' desk and was brushing the ends of his unruly hair with her fingertips. She had quickly got an oh-my-God-what-have-I-done-now look on her face. Josh had sat still in his chair, afraid if he took a breath he would ruin…something. 

Donna had tried to cover it up by ruffling his hair playfully and quipping, "No…I meant you're more like a bear…a big, black bear that's whining for a drink after crawling out of his cave. Did you know that 'black bear' is a misnomer? Black bears' fur isn't really black, so the name is inaccurate."

She had smiled nervously, mentally rebuking herself. Donna then snatched something off of her boss' desk and scuttled out of the room. Josh had blinked and let his shoulders sag. It was just one more thing for him to contemplate.

If he weren't so busy thinking, Josh would've noticed something was amiss. Co-workers, whose names he did not recall, snickered as they saw him walk by. The air was buzzing with fresh gossip, but he didn't have a clue. Mike Piazza could have walked by and he would have kept staring straight ahead. 

In fact, it was probably sheer luck that he saw Donna—whose banter he was meditating on—walking towards him at a brisk pace. It wasn't the rapidly approaching prescience that jarred him out of his thoughts; it was the look on her face. 

The look was the same thing you get from a helpless puppy through a pet store window—the need of a loving home. Wait a minute…**love**? _Need of love?_ No, it must have been more of a look that you see in the eyes of poor, starving African children—the need of caring arms and… Wait a minute…that wasn't any better than the first simile. Was he just misreading something?

Donna saw Josh looking at her and ran towards him. Wrapping her arms around his neck she kissed him soundly on the lips. Josh's eyes widened in shock. The bullpen suddenly went quiet, everyone simultaneously turning to look. 

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He was speechless as Donna pulled back from the kiss and smiled at him. Words tumbled out of her mouth; "Josh! I had no idea! I mean—wow. I though you might like the way we argue, but… I mean, I guess after the Christmas present and the way you wouldn't go out with Joey…I wondered. But, Josh, I can't believe—

She suddenly stopped talking. Donna realized that her boss had yet to make a comment, or breath, for that matter. "What, Josh, is something wrong?" She looked around, for the first time noticing everyone staring at them. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I must be embarrassing you…" She grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him towards his office, but Joshua Lyman was rooted to the ground.

Finally he shut his gaping mouth and managed to form a complete sentence, "What's going on, Donna?"

She looked confused. "Your radio speech. Everyone heard it. It was amazing, Josh. I mean…what you confessed about your feelings for me. No one has ever done something like that."

His mind slowly began to function. Josh asked slowly, "Donna, which tape did you give to C.J.?"

Donna knitted her eyebrows together. "The one on your desk. Why?"

Josh closed his eyes. "The one in the recorder or the one on the papers?"

"On the papers. Why, what's wrong?"

His eyes snapped open. "No. Tell me you didn't!"

Donna was getting annoyed. "What do you mean?"

"The tape in the _recorder_ was the one for NPR…" he explained with a sigh.

His assistant looked hurt and she asked sheepishly, "You mean you weren't going to tell me?"

Josh stammered, "I-I

"Thou art a villainous rat-catcher!" Donna yelled, slapping him across the face before stomping away.

Ginger walked up to the flabbergasted Deputy Chief of Staff. Toby's assistant explained, "She read the whole _Romeo and Juliet_ play after hearing you refer to it in your…speech."

"Really?" Josh raised his eyebrows, not sure whether to be flattered or not. _But why should I be surprised_, he wondered. _A man with his own fan club should expect people to read things he suggests…_

Ginger interrupted Josh's ego trip; "Toby wants to see you right now, Josh. He's not really…" She paused. "Happy."

When was Toby ever happy? Josh watched Ginger walk away towards her boss's office. He wasn't quite sure whether or not he wanted to follow her…getting yelled at twice in ten minutes was not good for his often-bruised pride. Before he had time to decide what to do, C.J. came charging down the hallway.

The Press Secretary's eyes looked as crazed as that of an enraged bull. Josh glanced around for a place to hide, but he had already been targeted. Her voice boomed, "Don't you dare think of running, Joshua Lyman."

He held his hands up in defense and said, "Before I learn why you look ready to kill me, may I just say that you're looking lovely this afternoon."

C.J. towered over him. "Nice try. But as someone who is, and I quote, 'always PMSing' I'm not in a good enough mood to except your compliment!"

Josh winced. So, he had been a little annoyed after C.J. had told him he always 'tarnished Donna's shining armor'. Yes, he had vented his frustration into the recorder…but it was purely innocent. He never thought someone would actually hear the tape. 

"Yeah, about that, C.J., I'm really sorry. I didn't mean—

"Save it, Musing Man, you're not going to get any defense from me when the reporters ask about your private life." C.J. turned on her heel and strutted away.

"C.J.! No! Please! I'm…" Josh sighed and rubbed his temples. No wonder his sister had locked her diary and hid the key.

"Hey, buddy." Sam came up behind the Deputy Chief of Staff and put an arm around his shoulders. "Looks like a case of 'foot _in_ mouth' disease has finally reached Washington D.C."

"Very funny, Sam, I'm not in the mood." Josh shrugged out of his friend's grasp. "I think I should go find Donna."

"I saw her. She looked pretty upset…what did you do this time? Or was it your radio stunt that upset her?" Sam asked curiously.

Josh shook his head dismally. "Why does everyone always say 'this time', like they were expecting me to blow it? I would have you know that I didn't plan on the 'radio stunt'."

"Ha! I was right!" Sam did a little victory dance. "I won the pool! I wonder how much money it was up to…"

Josh turned to him in shock and yelled, "Sam! What are you talking about?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." The Deputy Communications Director quickly changed the subject, "So, why was Donna so upset?"

"Well…she…we kissed right here and…I…um…sorta…was a…"

"You made an ass of yourself, didn't you? Jerk? Moron? Fool? Nincompoop?"

"Thanks, Sam, you always know the right words to use," Josh said sarcastically.

"Let me get this straight, Josh. You both finally kissed—more importantly, _Donna_ kissed _you_—and then you proceeded to…?"

Josh hung his head and mumbled, "Yell at her for giving the wrong tape to C.J."

"Way to be romantic, Josh," Sam commented, rolling his eyes.

He glared at Sam. "_Thanks_."

Sam pulled at his collar. "Well, actually, I wanted to come and take you over to Toby's office. He's been slamming his rubber balls into the wall like you wouldn't believe. I think that sooner or later one's going to break through and hit me in the face. So…" He began to drag Josh down the hallway.

As the two men neared Toby's office they heard: 

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Thump, thump

"Ginger! Is Josh here yet?"

"No, sir."

_Thump, thump, thump_

"Ginger! Did you tell Josh I wanted him?"

"Yes, he should be on his way."

_Thump, thump_

"Ginger! Is Josh here yet?"

"I see him coming, sir." Toby's assistant looked relieved as she spotted Josh heading her way. She jumped up, grabbed the Deputy Chief of Staff's arm, and dragged him into her boss' office.

_Thump_

A ball whacked the wall. Ginger instinctively ducked, but it only missed Josh's head by an inch. Toby caught the ball and set it on his desk. He stood up. "Thank you, Ginger." His assistant scuttled out of the room. "Sit down, Josh."

Josh didn't like the look on Toby's face, but he sat down anyway. The Communications Director leaned forward. "Josh, are you aware of the fact that the tape that was broadcast by NPR was not answering any of the questions you were given?"

Josh sighed. "That has come to my attention, yes."

"Are you also aware of the fact that NPR is broadcast to many states and if we want to win reelection they are good people to have on our side?"

"I didn't mean to—

Toby cut him off, "They feel like they've been used as a soapbox."

"I—

"They don't like being used as a soapbox, Josh."

"Well—

"Why did you use them as a soapbox, Josh?"

Not wanting to get Donna into trouble, he explained, "It was a mistake. I accidentally gave the wrong tape to C.J. I wasn't trying to make a scene and certainly never desired a soapbox."

"Well, that's not how NPR feels." Toby rubbed his face. "They're breathing down my neck, Josh. They're offended and want an apology. I'm going to have Sam prepare a statement which you're going to give over the phone."

"Okay." Josh began to push himself out of the chair as the door behind him swung open.

Charlie stood in the doorway. He exclaimed, "Excuse me. The President wants to see you, Josh."

The Deputy Chief of Staff felt like dragging his feet as he followed Charlie into the Oval Office.

"He'll be with you in a minute, Josh," said Charlie. "Make yourself comfortable."Josh Lyman leaned back against the wall of the Oval Office. He tried to picture calming rivers or warm beaches, but could only think of the look of hurt on Donna's face. 

He had never thought of himself as the kind of guy that women slapped—that seemed more like a Sam thing. Josh especially never thought that after over two years and all the things he had done to her, that Donna would finally snap.

It must have been the inevitable 'Lyman-wear' on people. Some people just lasted longer than others did.

But what if Donna quit? The boss/assistant line had been breached and instead of welcoming it, Josh had acted like an idiot.

He began to hit his head against the wall as the President of the United States walked in.

"Having a rough day, Josh?" asked President Bartlet as he gestured to two chairs.

Josh slumped over in the chair, not even worrying that the leader of America was seated beside him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but that is a gross understatement."

"That bad, huh?" Jed sat back and propped his ankle up on his other knee. "Do you want to talk about it?

"I'm sure you've heard all about it, sir."

"Well, it's not so bad to ruffle NPR's feathers every once and a while, don't let them bother you." He smiled and patted Josh's knee. 

Josh covered up his tired eyes with his hand. "They could hurt your reelection."

"Don't worry. If you call them up and grovel enough they'll get over it."

"I'm more worried that Donna won't get over it," Josh mumbled.

"What?" asked the President, leaning forward.

Josh sighed and told Jed everything, not caring if any of it could get him into trouble or if the President had more important talks to be having. Finally, when he finished, President Bartlet stood up and walked around. He said, "Errare humanum est. To err is human. You know what you said about Donna is true—

Why did everyone seem to think that? "Well, I'm not sure if I really… I mean, sir, I may just be making a big deal out of nothing—

"Adversus solem ne loquitor. Don't waste your time arguing the obvious. You already voiced the possibility that your feelings for Miss Moss are deeper than that of the normal assistant/boss relationship. Which, I might add, is something that many of us around here have been thinking for quite a while. And, as you can see, Donna reciprocates your feelings." The President returned to his seat. 

Josh stood up and began pacing. "But, sir—

"Josh! She kissed you in the middle of the bullpen for cripes sakes!" yelled the President.

"Yes, sir. But…what if there isn't a way to make up for the way I reacted?" the Deputy Chief of Staff asked sheepishly.

"Viam inveniam aut faciam. Either find a way or make one."

"Thank you." Josh nodded determinedly and headed towards the door.

The President's voice stopped him; "Oh, Josh."

"Yes, sir?"

"Cave quid dicis, quando, et cui," Jed quoted in Latin. "Beware what you say, when, and to whom…even a tape recorder." 

Donna returned to her desk after splashing her face with cold water in the bathroom. News of Josh's radio address, her kissing him in the bullpen, and they way he reacted had spread throughout the West Wing like wildfire. She wasn't sure whether to be angry, heartbroken, or embarrassed. She finally decided on self-pity and planned on sneaking home to drown her sorrows in ice cream, when she saw a note on her computer's monitor.

The note read: **_Donna, turn on NPR at 5 o'clock. And don't even think of leaving yet. As your overbearing boss I forbid you to leave before saying goodnight to me. _**

"Ugh!" Donna crumpled up the note and threw it at her garbage. She missed and in frustration slammed her fist into her radio. It turned on. 

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For the sake of this story please pretend Donna has a radio at her desk.

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"…And that concludes the news for tonight," a male voice soothed over the radio speakers. "But before we play Bach's Sarabande and Gavotte in G minor, we have a prerecorded phone message from Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman."

Donna gave a little gasp and let go of her sore hand to turn up the volume. There was crackling of a bad connection, and then a voice familiar spoke, "Greetings. As you all know, my name is Joshua Lyman. As you are also aware of, I was supposed to speak earlier today on _Fresh Air_. 

"In an error that solely falls upon my shoulders, the wrong tape was delivered to NPR studios and ended up being broadcast. I must agree that the oration that you heard was very impolite," he paused, "and vulgar. 

"Tonight I am giving this address to the staff of this wonderful station and many of my co-workers, whom I have greatly offended. I hope that you kind and generous peoples may find it in your heart of hearts to forgive my ill-mannered musings. I do, in fact, enjoy listening to NPR. I have spent many a night listening to the harmonious pieces you broadcast float from the speakers of my radio. Please…forgive me."

When did Josh listen to classical music?

The voice of another radio announcer spoke up, "Why, thank you, Mister Lyman. On behalf of NPR I would like to except your—

"I'm not done," exclaimed Josh, sounding more natural than he had when he spoke before. 

"What?"

"I would also like to apologize to Donnatella Moss, my assistant. After your dates that I've ruined and the way I acted like an //**BEEP// **today, I could see why you're probably considering leaving. I'm sorry for humiliating you, umpteen times, and, Donna, I—

The prerecorded message was cut off and the first man's voice once again soothed over the radio, "I'm sorry, but for time reasons we had to cut that conversation short—

The radio shut off and Donna looked up to see who pulled the plug. She was ready to yell, but then saw Josh in front of her, holding the cord. He said, "That jerk hung up on me…the nerve. I called back and they said something about 'soapbox'. I guess I won't be expecting a complimentary ticket to _Les Miserbles_." Josh began walking into his office.

Donna scurried after him, not believing that after all of that he would just leave her, alone, sitting at her desk.

"I think I'm in love with you, Donnatella Moss."

"You _think_?" Caught, once again, off guard, Donna halted in the doorway.

"Yes, I _think_. I think I'm in love with you because when you kissed me the world stopped. When you're angry—not post-banter 'angry', _really_ angry—the pit of my stomach drops out."

"Well, how will you know if you really do," Donna paused, "love me?"

Josh leaned forward and kissed her deeply. Both of their hearts began to race and nothing else seemed to exist in the world.

He broke free and sat back on his desk. "Now I know."

"Oh." Donna blushed and stumbled backwards into the wall in shock. She began to slip out when his voice stopped her; "Don't think that I'm trying to take advantage of you because you're my assistant. I don't think of you like that."

She raised her eyebrows. "So, how _do_ you think of me when you ask for a cup of coffee or a memo?"

Josh rubbed his face. "You know what I mean, Donna."

"You're lucky that I do." She smiled and shut the door behind herself. Donna then proceeded to trip over the carpeting, catch herself on her desk, and sit down. She stared, unblinking, straight-ahead at the air, unable to believe what had just happened.

Inside his office Josh picked up the mini-recorder that had started this whole mess. He turned it on.

"Note to self:

"1.) Never again humiliate self in front of the whole country—unless it is necessary.

"2.) Never take Donna for granted...but still piss her off periodically for the heck of it."

The recorder clicked off, but the musings of a man alone in the West Wing never ceased. 

****

The End!

__

Please respond! I hope you all liked my first West Wing fan fiction! It ended up being a little more dramatic than humorous, as I had originally meant to write it…but I think the story turned out good, anyway. 

~Writer


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